


The Substitute Reporter

by wisia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony isn't a fan of reporters. He doesn't like them, plain and simple. But when Steve Rogers, cartoonist turned reporter, ends up in his living room, Tony just might have to like one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eh...just something that popped into my head. I don't know.
> 
> Also, apologies for any errors. Typed this on notepad, and I haven't downloaded Microsoft Word onto my laptop yet.  
> \---  
> In the process of editing chapter one right now since I downloaded the program. 5/5/13 9:10PM.
> 
> \-----  
> 5/5/13 9:30PM Finished editing.

                It was a bad day. Scratch that. A terrible day, and god knows Tony Stark hated terrible days. Get one, and it multiplied like goddamn bunnies. Not in the fun way either. If it was, Tony might have been a little more forgiving of terrible days when they came. Or as Rhodey told him once, "let it go man. Just roll with it, you know."

                That. Well, they might have been a wee high when Rhodey imparted those words of wisdom. In any case, Tony hated bad days and today was one of them. Pepper had saddled him with a pile of paperwork (what was he paying her for if she wasn't doing it for him?) and traffic sucked in spite of Happy's uber driving skills. They were quite 1337 if Tony had to testified--but the bad day didn't end there. he didn't get his requisite amount of coffee, and there was no way Tony was listing all the things that went wrong. That was a waste of his genius and precious time. But right now? A man, even if he was a hunk of one, was standing in his living room. Tony swore he -- JARVIS actually--locked the doors before he left this morning.

                "Who are you and what are you doing here?" Tony tugged his sunglasses off to get a better look. The man jolted from his military precise parade rest. His eyes had been examining one of the paintings on the wall, an ugly one that Pepper bought a few years back for a couple of hundred thousand.

                "Mr. Stark," the man exclaimed, cheeks flushing lightly as if embarrassed at being caught. The title was enough to make Tony twitch in the most unforgiving way, so he tossed his glasses onto the couch. And because it was a bad day, they slipped right off onto the plush carpet.

                "Tony," he corrected and eyed the man once more. Tony was sure he didn't order a Tall and Blond online. He wasn't that drunk out of his mind last night. Besides, it was cheap and undignified to hire an escort. Not when Tony could get anyone easy.

                "I'm sorry," the man apologized," for imposing. Your--"

                And there was a sudden loud guitar riff gunning the air in interruption. Tony ignored the man who politely shut up as Tony reached into his pocket.

                "What is it?" He snapped into cell. "No. Don't let Edward on it. Send him off to legal if you--I don't care if he's not qualified. His degree is barely legit, it's a joke--he's not touching my baby. I don't care what Obie says."

                Tony paced back and forth as he spoke. There was a sudden crack, and Tony looked down. He had stepped onto his glasses. He really liked that pair too.

                "Uh huh," Tony said and kicked the shards underneath the couch with his foot. The bots would get it later. "Right. I don't give a damn. Now go make me happy."

                He clicked the call off. Bad days sucked balls. Then he turned his attention back on Mr. Tall and Blond who was in parade rest again. Who did that?

                "And you are?" Tony asked waspishly. His eyes flicked up and down that all too good looking body.

                "Steve Rogers," the man introduced himself and held out his hand. Tony looked at it uncomprehendingly then at the man. His jaw line was impressive as he continued to hold his hand out without wavering the slightest.

                "Right," Tony said without shaking his hand and walked away. He jerked a thumb at the door. "I don't know how you got in here, but you can leave. No questions asked."

                "Excuse me?" Steve stared at him. Were people all this stupid, Tony wondered and rolled his eyes. "Get out. Chop chop. Vamos."

                Tony suited his words with a shooing motion, but Steve didn't budge an inch.

                "I'm afraid I can't do that," Steve said.

                "Uh, yes you can. You got legs, don't you?"

                "I'm--"

                "Blah, blah, blah," Tony said over him and settled onto the stool behind the bar. He poured himself a whiskey. Drained it and squinted. Mr. Blond was still there. "Why are you still here?"

                "I told you," Steve said and sounded remarkably like Pepper to react when she was trying not to react to Tony's latest quirk. "My colleague, James Barnes, was supposed to interview you, but he couldn't make it. They sent me instead. So if you will, Mr. Stark?"

                And that title would have sent Tony into a twitch fest, but he poured himself another glass.

                "I..."

                Steve had a notepad and pencil out (how archaic was that?) ready at hand.

                "Wait, wait!" Tony ordered. "What makes you qualified to do this? I've heard of Barnes but not you."

                "I also work for the paper. I only write sometimes," Steve said honestly. "I'm the photographer and the cartoonist for some of the comic strips."

                "What? No! Don't open your mouth--just let me." Tony downed his glass, blinked and Mr. Blond was still there.

                "Okay. Let me get this straight. They're sending me a cartoonist. To interview. Me?"

                "Yes." Steve's lips seemed to quirk slightly in amusement. "We cleared everything with your PA. Now, could we start please?"


	2. Chapter 2

                "No," Tony said swiftly. "I'm not doing this."

                It was a bad day, and he didn't feel like it. He just wanted to drink, tinker with some machinery and collapse into bed. Tony should get points for even managing to get through today with only three glasses of alcohol in his system. He wasn't going to deal with a reporter who wasn't actually a reporter but a cartoonist.

                "But we already--" Steve started, the hand holding the pad moved up as if he could physically stop Tony.

                "I'm going to complain to Pep," Tony declared and stood up."I must have done ten interviews this month alone. Go find Everhart if you want all the details."

                Tony waved his hand and made for the stairs.

                "Ms. Everhart is a fine journalist, but she doesn't have what I want to know."

                That made Tony pause and turn back to Steve. He wasn't standing in parade rest, but standing straight and confident, feet shoulder width apart. His gaze was heavy on Tony as if he could see right through him, and wasn't that interesting?

                "Oh," Tony said and arched one eyebrow. "And what do you want to know? How good I am in bed? Because I already gave Ms. Everhart the time of her life, but I wouldn't mind doing you as well."

                Steve's face turned a deeper shade of pink.

                "That is not what I meant. The articles on you are insubstantial. It doesn't matter who writes them, and they lack..."

                Steve trailed off wistfully as if there was a scene he could only see in his head.

                "They lack what?"

                "That's what I want to know." Steve's voice was soft, and Tony could feel an intimacy enfolding for some strange reason around them. Everything was hush, and Tony cut it off quickly before he could like the man anymore beyond his appearance.

                "They lack nothing. You're just dreaming," Tony said and gestured at himself. "Look. I'm entirely honest. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. What you see is exactly what you get. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm a busy man."

                "I don't believe that," Steve called out, words loud and clear as Tony hurried down into the basement. Perhaps, but Tony didn't trust reporters. Not even if they looked like that.

                And of course, Pepper had to ruin everything two days later.

                "Ow!" What was that for?" Tony rubbed the back of his head. "Am I bleeding? I'm bleeding, aren't I? You gave me a concussion, how am I supposed to do anything if you kill my brain cells?"

                "Tony!" Pepper was exasperated. "You--you are the cause of all my headaches."

                "To be fair," Tony said and swiveled in his chair. "You wanted this job even though I offer to transfer you. I'm just--"

                "To-ny."

                "What?"

                Pepper sighed, but she didn't hit him again. Thankfully. Tony really did value his brain cells, and he didn't fancy losing them because he pissed her off. That wasn't worth losing his brain cells over. Pepper was scary when she wanted to be.

                "You were very rude to Steve."

                "Who's Steve?"

                Pepper looked at him. So, Tony obediently stopped spinning in his chair. He leaned forward on the desk, hand underneath his chin and smiled innocently.

                "The reporter."

                "Oh, him. He changed his mind. Decided he didn't want to do a story on me."

                "Really," Pepper said. "Because he just called me yesterday."

                "He did?" Tony asked, eyes as wide as he could make them. "Glad to know that. I'm sure you'll let me know if anything--"

                Tony started sliding his chair towards the door. Pepper stopped him with one delicate four inch high heel clad foot right on one of the wheels.

                "He said he caught you at a bad time and if he could reschedule. He was very polite and apologized for the trouble."

                "Jeez, what a sucker," Tony snorted. He should have known with the way the man blushed so much. He tested moving his chair again, but Pepper's foot was firm and unyielding. "Full of politeness, isn't he?"

                "That's why you will be polite to him too."

                "I will?"

                "Yes. You will." Pepper removed her foot.

                "But Pep," Tony whined. Pepper's glare made him shut up. "You are seeing him. You cannot skip or pass."

                Tony opened his mouth again to protest, but Pepper was already sashaying away.

                " Steve won't write a bad article. I know. If I didn't, I wouldn't have agreed and waited for Barnes. Though that would have taken a month."

                "He's a cartoonist!" Tony yelled to her retreating back. "He's not even a real reporter!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think...it changed tone somehow?
> 
> Also, if you people ever read my DC fanfics or whatever, you'll know that I write short chapters. I seem to be incapable of writing lengthy pieces. So, if you're wondering if all the chapters will be this short, yes it will be.

               The cafe was a four star eatery. It was simple and elegant with just the right pizzazz for obscenely rich billionaires. It was also Pepper's choice, not his. For that and because it was the meeting with Steve Rogers, Tony arrived a fashionably twenty minute late. He wasn't going to let some idiot psychoanalyze him for the world to see. Tony, of course, was disappointed. Normally, half of the chumps would have left already because Tony didn't show up on time or didn't show up at all.

                "You're still here?" Tony asked and pointed one of the legs on his sunglasses at Mr. Blond waiting at the table. The man was dressed in slacks and a simple blue button up shirt that was just a tad too tight. He also looked a little uncomfortable sitting in place where just the salad alone could probably cost more than his annual salary. It was just a little unfair how good the man look still in spite of the discomfort.

                "Hello Mr. Stark," Steve greeted. "I'm still here. It's only been ten minutes. You're not too late."

                Tony could feel a violent twitch threatening to break at the address. It was just as bad as last time.

                "Don't call me that," Tony ordered and slid into the opposite chair. He tactfully chose to ignore the fact Pepper had blatantly lied to him about the meeting time thereby making him on time. He would get back at her later somehow. "I told you that last time. It's Tony. Don't you know how to listen? Oh, wait. You're not a real reporter. You're a cartoonist. That's why you don't know how to listen, but it's okay. I'm a generous man, so I'll let you--"

                "Mr. Stark," Steve cut in, still formal and full of authority. "I assure you I am a writer even if I don't write much nowadays."

                "Lies," Tony muttered to himself before raising his voice again to speak. "You just called yourself a writer. Not a reporter. You don't even think you're one, are you? And will you quite calling me Mr. Stark? It gives me the creeps."

                "And why don't you like being called Mr. Stark?"

                "Because I--" Tony snapped his mouth shut. He was not going to spill out his problems with Howard Stark to the man. No matter how good he looked. So, Tony plastered a smile on his face and continued smoothly, "tell me. Do I look my age, Rogers?"

                Tony rubbed a hand over his goatee, smoothing it out. He let his hand fall onto the table gracefully, knowing the motion helped highlight his features and well cut suit that fitted his form a T on the descent down. Tony could see Steve swallowed slightly as his blue eyes cataloged each and every detail of Tony's figure. He was never ashamed of using his looks to his advantage.

                "Not," Steve started. A faint pink sheen graced his face. "Not so much."

                "Good," Tony said. His smile was now blindingly bright as he turned up the charm. "I'm a vain man. Calling me Mr. Stark makes me feel old. Old old, and I can't have that now, can I?"

                "Oh, I would agree, Mr. Stark," Steve said and leaned in suddenly. His blue eyes were sharp and one of those rare shades of blue if Tony thought about it. "But..."

                "Please. Call me Tony," Tony said and leaned in as well. "I bet it would sound nice coming from your mouth."

                 His voice had dropped to a purr, and their faces were close enough over that small table to be almost touching.

                "But you hesitated," Steve finished, and it was only through years of practice that Tony's face did not blanched white. Tony pulled back with a light laugh.

                "So I paused," he said glibly and waved a hand. "A man needs to breathe sometimes, gather his thoughts and--"

                "Tony."

                 And that was just cruel because his name really did sound nice coming from Steve, but Steve was a reporter, and Tony didn't trust them one bit.

                "What?" Tony couldn't help how meek that sounded. Steve was still looking at him, and his eyes were serious.

                "I think it says something about you and your father. That you do not like being called Mr. Stark."

                Tony froze before he turned his head away.

                "You're very funny, you know that, Rogers. You know, I'm starved. It's almost two now! I think you must be hungry too. When people are hungry, they don't think straight. You have some really weird ideas."

                He stood up abruptly and wildly waved the waiter over.

                "Hey! I think we're ready to order. So, could you please?"

                Tony studiously concentrated on his food when it arrived and answered the rest of Steve's questions as quickly as he could.


End file.
